


Commitment Issues

by TheVeganTargaryen



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, also dogs, but dogs, just pure unadulterated fluff, not as much focus on dogs as originally planned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2015-09-17
Packaged: 2018-04-21 05:42:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4817246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheVeganTargaryen/pseuds/TheVeganTargaryen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a dog. Just a dog. That he and Barry would own. Together. (Or, that one time Oliver was forced to face the fact that he definitely has commitment issues.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Commitment Issues

“You know, they say dogs end up looking like their owners. Thing is, I really can’t figure out exactly what kind of dog would make that true for both you and Barry.”

Oliver shot Felicity a half-hearted glare from the salmon ladder. Three days since he’d told Barry that yes, okay, _maybe_ they could _think_ about adopting a dog, and literally no one would let the subject go.

“And how’s that even going work?” she mused as her programs continued to run in the background to get information on the city’s latest potential threat. “You two live in two different cities, and maybe Barry can literally get here in ten minutes, but I really think that’s taking the concept of daily walks a little far. Is this gonna be like a joint custody thing? Because–”

“ _Felicity_.” Oliver interrupted without anything to say after that. He was inexplicably irritable about the whole thing now, and for once these frustrations weren’t the kind he could sweat out with a hard enough training session.

It was a dog. Just a dog. That he and Barry would own. Together.

“Who ever would have thought?” Laurel chimed in, the teasing grin on her face light-hearted and matching Felicity’s. “Mr. Commitment-phobe himself taking the first steps to domestic bliss.” She didn’t mean anything malicious by it; Oliver knew that.

Still, he dropped off the bar and went straight for his quiver, strapping it on as fast as he could manage before his bow was in his hand again. Target practice helped pass the time, and he only broke focus to refill his quiver when it was finally empty.

And it was only then that he noticed the newest arrival. Barry was standing behind Felicity’s computer chair, still in his Flash suit, mask off, staring at Oliver with an expression he couldn’t quite place.

“When did you get here?” Barry wasn’t often quiet–or subtle–about entering a room. Oliver was usually more observant.

“A couple of minutes ago,” was the light reply, but it was tinged with a hint of something else. “Venting your frustrations?” he asked with a nod to the wall, riddled with pierced tennis balls.

“No frustrations; just a little practice.” He tried to make it sound like the truth. Because it _was_ the truth. It had been an easy day, all things considered. Even his nightly patrol was relatively uneventful. Maybe that was it; maybe he was just restless without his regular adrenaline rush.

Nevertheless, he could practically feel the tension radiating off him in waves, and he got the impression the others did too.

“Laurel and I were gonna help you guys come up with dog names,” Felicity offered with a small laugh, perhaps as some kind of neutralizing statement.

Barry glanced at her, then looked up at Oliver, and then, by some thought process Oliver was positive he wouldn’t be able to follow, a look of dawning comprehension crossed over his features.

“Hey, can you guys give us the room?”

“We were headed to Big Belly Burger anyways,” Laurel said diplomatically before she and Felicity made their way to the door. Barry waited until he heard it shut before speaking again. “So now do you want to tell me what’s really going on?”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s the dog thing, isn’t it?”

“No,” Oliver replied automatically. “They don’t seem to be able to _drop_ the subject, but–”

“Is this an issue for you?” Somehow Barry managed to sound more concerned than anything else. “Oliver, if we’re…I don’t know…moving too fast or something, you can tell me.”

The words fell between them with the kind of sincere earnestness that only Barry seemed to really ever be capable of (nearly everyone else in Oliver’s life was too jaded to be able to do the same). And damn if that wasn’t striking a chord with him.

“If I said it was, would that be a problem?”

Barry was by his side in the blink of an eye, taking the bow out of his hands, and somehow Oliver’s vice grip relaxed enough around the weapon’s limbs to let him. “I don’t know why you think it would be. I just want to make sure we’re on the same page.”

“I’m not good at this relationship thing, Barry.” Fuck. He wasn’t even good at _talking_ about not being good at the relationship thing. He felt stilted and awkward and just about everything he shouldn’t have been feeling while talking to his boyfriend. “I haven’t been in a serious relationship in…well…a really long time. And the last time that happened, it led to all of _this_ happening.” He waved his hand at the lair. “Laurel wanted to move in with me. I wasn’t ready, and she had–she had this whole life planned for us. When we’d get married, how many kids she wanted us to have, what she would do for work, what I would do for work…” It wasn’t fair to put any of this on Barry. Oliver knew that. But he had all this fucking baggage he was bringing to the table, and he was basically counting down the days until Barry had had enough of him.

“Yeah, if you’re waiting for me to have had enough of you, you’re gonna be waiting a really long time,” Barry told him, a grin spreading over his features.

Oh. He’d said that part out loud.

“Oliver, we’re in this together,” he said, sliding his arms loosely around Oliver in a casual embrace. “All of it. And we can take it as slow as you want. If the dog thing’s freaking you out? Off the table. I love you. ”

Barry always said it a lot more frequently than Oliver, but Oliver didn’t mean anything less than, “I love you too,” when he kissed Barry instead. It was soft and sweet and secure. Secure was new. Oliver was still getting used to that.

And three days later Oliver and Barry walked out of the shelter with a two-year-old rescued Doberman still recovering from dog fight injuries, with endless amounts of energy, and a strongly protective loyalty streak. Everyone agreed she suited both of them perfectly.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I don’t normally do this, but I have a small PSA for you this time: Dobermans are one of the most mistreated dog breeds, often stolen and forced to fight. They also get a really bad rap and are deemed “dangerous” by many, including some state laws. Because of this, organizations like [Doberman Rescue Unlimited](http://www.dru.org/) could always use some support if you can spare a donation. 
> 
> And, as with any decision to add a companion animal to your homes, please ADOPT, don't shop! There are so many dogs without homes, and there's no reason to support breeding more dogs or pet stores who get dogs from puppy mills.


End file.
